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lokis-army-77 · 7 months

Text

A Text Away

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7k

You've been horny all day and Eddie is at band practice... but you know a way to get him home.

Warning: 18 +. face sitting/riding, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex.

And thank you to @strangerxperv for the absolutly fabulous idea 💗

Masterlist

After a long day at work, there were two things you wanted. One, a nice hot shower, and two, your boyfriend to fuck you into next week.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that watching him get dressed to go work at the local record store made you horny. He couldn’t help the fact that every time you saw the little trail of hair dipping past the waist of his pants, your legs clenched, and your body grew warmer.

You dealt with your racing thoughts all through your own shift at the bookshop, imagining your return home and how good he would feel against you.

Only, he wasn’t home when you unlocked your apartment door.

Sighing in disappointment you trudge to the bathroom to start warming the water. As you wait, you text Eddie.

Where are you? I need you.. like really bad.

Your phone dings a few minutes later while you are in the middle of scrubbing shampoo in your hair.

Wiping your hand off on the towel, you reach for your phone, lying on the small shelf above the towel rack.

Eddie had responded.

In a bit baby. I'm at practice.

You pout as you read the text only to smile mischievously. You message him as fast as you can with one dry hand.

But Eddie.. if you come home I'll sit on your face. And I mean really sit on your face.

There is no ding of a notification once you set your phone back down and continue your shower routine.

Twenty minutes later, you've given up on Eddie answering you, have put on your comfiest pajamas, and are now snuggled up in bed.

You're startled when the front door slams open and you hear thick boots pacing in your direction.

"Take your fucking pants off right now," Eddie commands as he bursts into your shared bedroom.

You're sat up, back against the headboard, staring at him, bewildered as he practically flops backward onto the bed.

When he hadn’t texted you back you assumed he just wasn't interested at the moment, you never could have imagined this.

You start to giggle when he starts making grabby hands at you. "Pussy on my mouth, now."

When the words leave his mouth, you practically choke on a laugh.

"Babe, quit laughing and get up here. Set on my fucking face like you promised." He grumps.

You have no choice but to obey as you say, "Okay okay, patient much?"

It's only fair that you tease him a little. So you slowly emerge from under the covers, fingers delicately pulling at the waist of your pajama pants.

Eddie watches with a hunger in his dark brown eyes. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips when you begin to tug your pants down. Slowly but surely you are exposed to him and he almost dies when he realizes you weren't wearing panties.

Before you can even get to your knees, Eddie is gripping your ankle and pulling your body down the bed to him with a strength acquired from years of hauling heavy amps and other musical equipment from place to place.

"Eddie!" You squeal, more laughter leaving you when your head falls, bouncing on the mattress.

"You're going too slow, baby." He cries, letting his hold up but hands never leaving you.

You shake your head, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. Finally, you get to your knees and straddle him. He is impatiently pulling you up his body, only stopping when you are hovering over his face.

Your eyes meet his as you stare down between your legs. He'd got a big, goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Fuck." He sighs. "I've died and gone to heaven." His large hands wrap around your legs and right before he pulls you flush to his mouth he says, "Don't hold back."

When his hot mouth makes contact with your waiting pussy, you gasp. The need you had been feeling all day long now has an outlet.

Eddie's tongue swipes through your folds, lapping up the arousal that had already started to seep from your cunt. His nose rubs against your clit, pulling a strangled moan from you.

A hand shoots down to tangle in his hair when his tongue plays at the rim of your cunt, flicking ever so slightly in and out of you.

He's like a man starved as he devours all that is given to him. You feel his fingers moving up to your hips. There's a slight pressure as he pushes you and in a flush of worry, you pull off of him.

The desperate whine that falls past his already swollen lips makes your heart flutter.

"Why'd you move away?"

"You were pushing me.. are you okay? I thought you couldn't breathe." I exasperate.

"No, I was trying to get you to ride me. Hump my face sweetheart." He doesn't say another word, he just grips onto you once more and pulls you down.

You understand what he wants now, so you lean back, hands resting on the tops of his things behind you, and you canter your hips. Slow and steady you used him for your own pleasure.

"Eddie-" you sigh breathlessly, head falling back between your shoulders.

He hums in response. The vibrations travel up through your core and into your body. Shivers accompany them as you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Eddie please-" Your knees and arms are burning as you continue to grind yourself against him. "I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum."

Your lungs are struggling to fill with air as you get closer and closer to release. Eddie's hands are wrapped over your thighs, fingers searching for your clit.

When he finds it, you double over. The knot pulls tighter and you feel a sheen of sweat cover your body.

Quickly, your first orgasm comes to light. There's a blazing fire erupting within you and it takes all you have not to fall flat on your face. Long, drawn-out moans flow from you and Eddie does not stop. His tongue pushed into you, tasting your release.

His fingers now grip the fat of your ass harshly. He keeps you on top of him and he moves his face from side to side as best he can with you practically smothering him with your pussy.

This time he does actually push you up off him. He takes a deep breath and groans. "Fuck baby, taste so good." He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh and then he bites you. His teeth sink into the soft skin in the crease where your inner thigh meets with your body.

In a series of fluid movements, Eddie has you on your back in an instant. He unzips his pants and pulls himself out of them, tugging on his hardness before getting into position. Your legs are being pushed back by his hands holding you at the bend of the knee.

"You're so pretty like this… pussy all wet and needy for me." His voice is muffled by the loud beating of your heart in your ears. "Mmm gonna fuck you full."

You whimper as you feel his hard length run through your glistening folds, his hips jutting against the backs of your thighs.

"Yeah, you like that? Want me to fill you with my cum?"

You nod, crying out when his cock finally pressed through the tight threshold of your cunt. "Need it, please, I need it."

"Just my little cum baby aren't you?" He asks, fully sheathing himself in you.

Your back arches off the bed and you groan. Fingernails scratching at Eddie’s forearms.

He pulls back and slams into you. "Aren't you?"

"Yes!" You cry out. His cock reaches into the very depths of you, the tip hitting in just the right place to make you scream. "Yes! I am, I am, Eddie!"

"Mmm, good. Gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. Gonna breed this pretty fuckin' pussy." His fingers adjust themselves as his grip slips and then he's pounding into you at such a brutal pace. Back and forth, in and out, he is fucking you raw.

Your walls clamp around him, the drag of his cock stimulates you more and you clench harder.

Skin on skin, the noises that they make are obscene. The squelch of him entering you has your face burning, not in embarrassment but desire. His gruff growls and fucked out moans accompany those other sounds and all they do is make you even more horny.

Eddie fucks into you with reckless abandon, mind full of images of your belling swollen with his child. How much he would love for you to sit on his face like that, all pretty and pregnant.

Your toes curl when Eddie flips your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. A strong, calloused hand reaching out for the mound of flesh. He kneads it and pulls on your nipple before swiping a gentle thumb over the hardened bud.

The way he fucks you is savage. Hips snapping at a speed you couldn't imagine, his fingers squeeze your skin so hard you are sure you will have brushes in the shape of his hands all over you.

The knot pulls tighter once more and your body begins to lock up in anticipation. Your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. Your hands reach for his, interlocking your fingers, hoping he will keep you down on Earth.

As your orgasm hits once more, you wail. A long, monotone cry bursts from your lungs, whole unattractive but who cares when you feel so so so good?

"That's it. That's fucking it." Eddie gasps. Your cunt is practical milking him. He's trying to hold off but it's all just too much. A shiver runs up his spine and his balls pull taut. He's lost his rhythm, hips now bucking unevenly and with desperation.

All it takes is another whimper from you and he's a gunner. With one last hard thrust, he keeps himself buried to the hilt. Your walls are spasming around him, your release gushing out along with his own sticky, milky white cum.

"Yes, fuck yes. That's it, baby, take all my fucking cum."

He falls forward, letting go of your knees. His forehead rests in the crook of your neck and his lips press softly into your skin. He kisses you, a needed juxtaposition from mere seconds ago.

His breath is warm on your salt-slicked skin as he speaks again. "Such a good little cum baby, taking all that. S'what you wanted, hum?"

You close your eyes, tired. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just what I wanted."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

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gojosprettyprincess · 3 months

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Synopsis - You were going through a really tough time and needed more money so you asked your boss Nanami for a raise but it seems like he has something else in mind. A/n repost from my account that got terminated

♡ ・゜・゜♡ ・゜・゜♡ ・゜・゜♡ ・゜・゜

“Fuck look at you clenching around my cock like a fucking slut". He groans as he bounces you on his cock.

"You dirty fucking whore bet you'll do anything for money wouldn't you".

This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how it was supposed to be, you were going through a rough time ,struggling with money for the past few days, you'd hope your boss Kento would understand what you're going through and give you a raise even if it's something small, after all he's a jujutsu sorcerer, that man makes more money then you ever will throughout your whole life. But your boss had something else in mind.

And that's how you end up in the situation you're in right now, in your Boss office. His cock nested into your tiny wet cunny, thrusting himself inside of you as he kisses your neck.

"You have no idea how fucking long I've been waiting for this" he whispers against your neck.

"Always walking around in those tiny fucking skirts, its like you were begging to get fucked. Shit you looked so fucking hot, always making my dick hard".

You were surprised by that, your boss was always really nice to you, nice to everyone actually, always smiling at them and asking about their day, this side of him was very unexpected. What's even more unexpected was the fact that he wanted you.

"Wha- what"

"We shouldn't be doing this sir!" you squeaked.

"But you wanted a raise, didn't you? Well, you're going to fucking get it" he groans as he picks up the pace fucking his cock into your pussy from the bottom.

He hugs your frame, your breast against his chest as his arms tighten around you, he starts ramming his cock into your cunt at a faster pace, his cock brushing against your g spot with each roll of his hips while he's stretching you.

“Fuck Ken, It's s'big" you moaned loudly, as if they aren't other people in the next room, feeling split apart completely around his cock, he was so big, biggest you've ever had.

“Your so fucking loud” he grunts as he lands a harsh slap on your ass, “Fuck, you want everyone to know how much of a fucking slut you are clenching around my dick like this don’t you”?.

“Tell me how much you fucking love my cock you filthy bitch.”

"Lo- love it s'much" you try your best to make out.

"Fuck have i really fucked you dumb already that you can't even talk properly" he groans "your gonna have to do better than that princess."

"Your cock feels so good inside of me daddy, its s'big!" you cried out, feeling his cock twitching inside of you.

"Good fucking girl, Hah Fuck, your gonna make me cum princess".

"you're going to be so fucking full after I'm done with you."

Your eyes widen with realization on what he meant. "N- no not inside, please"

"What about that raise princess?" "don't fucking make me change my mind, I'm gonna fill your slutty cunt with all my cum and you're going to fucking take it" he stands up with him still inside of you as he places you on his desk, your legs over his shoulders as he continues thrusting his cock into you.

"Hah, Oh fuckk" he moans, slamming his cock into you at as impossible pace, his nails digging into your thighs, you looked up in horror at what he's about to do "Fucking take it bitch."

You felt his release spurting inside of your pussy, filling you up causing your eyes to roll at the back of your head. His cock twitching inside of you as he slowly began pulling out, watching as his cum gushes out of your pussy, dripping down on your asshole onto the desk you were planted on. You were completely fucked out, trying your best to regain you breathe as you look up at him.

He slaps his cock against your soaking cunt, "You like being filled, don't you? you better get used to this if you want to get payed more or maybe you can just be my little office slut, getting payed to Cock warm me all fucking day."

Art credit - @JPparkGuardian on twitter

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callsigns-haze · 4 months

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Behind the scenes, we ain't so clean

pairing: young!president!coriolanus snow x fem!first lady!reader

summary: you both are so composed until it comes to the bedroom stuff

warnings: smut, spanking, fingering, unhinged coryo, work sex, dominance, short fic

A/n: This is my second hunger games post so I hope y'all enjoy!

He's soft. Or at least that's what Y/N thinks about Coryo.

There has always been an oral rule between you and Coryo: if one of them needs anything, say it. However, you don't not want to harm Coryo's feelings. You don't think telling him he's too amazing in bed will work very well because of his large ego.

You're nibbling on your bottom lip and bouncing your leg up and down on the edge of your and Coryo's king-size bed because of this. Usually, you would go nibble on the tips of your nails, but you received a manicure lately, and you're unwilling to feel like you squandered the money.

You get up and begins pacing, thinking about what you should tell Coryo you want to carry out in bed . The ideas are followed by images of him performing these dirty things, and you begin to feel a little moist between your legs, knowing you must stop so you can keep your head clear when the discourse begins.

"Achieving your steps in?" Coryo's raspy voice reverberates throughout the massive bedroom, making Y/N weak in the knees, and you can't wait to see how dark and rough it can get as he vents his sexual frustrations while dominating you.

"Oh! Hi!" You rub the back of your neck, feeling uneasy for no apparent reason, and stands with your knees at an unnatural angle, appearing bent into each other. "W-What're you doing home so early?"

"You're not thrilled to see me?" He smirks, prancing over to you and throwing his arms around your form, pulling your to his body. "Well?" His forehead rubs into yours, urging you to respond, nipping your lips for encouragement.

"M'happy to be able to see you, too." His hands slide downward to grasp your bottom, causing your to groan against his lips because, while it feels nice, you crave more.

"How was the office?" You ask him as he sits down upon the bed. "Busy but we managed."

"Spank me." It comes out more unexpectedly. You had intended to take things slowly and ease the discussion along, but your rapid mind had other ideas.

"What?" Coryo asks amusingly, tilting his body back to get a better look at you.

Y/N is ashamed and unsure if you want to proceed with the chat you had in your brain. "Nothing," you rush out, burying your face in his chest.

"No, no," Coryo insists, tugging your up by your hair, causing Y/N to have a tiny orgasm just from the mild manhandling. "I guess you meant 'spank me'?"

------

I'd never done anything exactly like this before, but thankfully for Coryo, I've always been someone who is willing to try new things. That's why I didn't mind when he tugged my skin tights and knickers all the way down to my ankles, curtly instructing me to take my 'Heels off'.

So I kicked them off, standing much more easily on the floor while my elbows supported me on top of his wooden desk. I believed he casually flung the shreds of material away before stroking both of his enormous hands up both of my legs, reaching the back of my thighs and causing goosebumps to appear on every inch of flesh.

He hiked my black skirt up over my hips, exposing my rear to him, and I heard him take a sharp inhale before smoothing both of his hands over my bottom cheeks.

"I'm going to spank you, okay?" He breathed and I gulped, nodding.

I was shocked as he abruptly grabbed on my hair, forcing my head up, my ass pressing into his powerful bulge as his lips skated harshly over my stretched neck.

"Okay, what?" Coryo seemed annoyed, and I assumed that the more I spoke, the more he would praise me rather than growl at me.

"Okay, spank me," I replied. "Please, please spank me."

He squeezed at the cheeks, satisfied with my words. "That's it. Go on, sweetheart, beg for it."

When his hand came down again, I let out a yell and felt each of his rings on my searing flesh. When his palm spanked me again, the left side of my face pushed to the desk and nudged forward, and I let out a delighted groan.

"Good girl, Y/n," he said. "Good girl, for me." I waited for his hand to spank me again, but nothing happened, so my brow wrinkled and I arched my back, looking for his hard hand.

"You've had enough, baby," he said softly, stroking and caressing the inflamed spot he'd battered.

I whined, pushing my ass out further. "More," I breathed. "Want more."

I had no idea my eyelids were closed until he tugged on my hair again, lips pressing to the region just behind my ear and sucking softly before skimming his teeth over the flesh. I gave a throaty groan as Coryo hummed and thrust his hips forward.

"Felt good," I praised him.

With two of his fingers running up the folds and then circling over my swelled nub, the hand that wasn't in my hair ran across my front, diving between my legs and coming to rest in my centre, causing my eyes to flutter shut. "You're so wet, I can—"

I pushed back against him while whining and pleading for more—for him. With a moan, he jutted his hips forward and his fingers moved more quickly inside of me. It felt exhilarating, but it was definitely not how I wanted it to end. Despite my right hand's strong grip on his arm to stop him, his strength overcame it and he kept digging his fingers in and out.

"N-no, not like this," I groaned ineffectively as Coryo continued to accelerate. "Coryo, stop." I whimpered, trying to get his fingers out from between my thighs and picturing how he would feel inside of me.

He said, "Come," but I shook my head. "You believe you have a say?" His fingers were working quicker than before, and he nearly laughed.

"Good." He gave me praise and helped me get through my orgasm till he felt that I was too sensitive and pulled his moist fingers away. My eyes closed, my chest fell back against his desk, rising and falling as I struggled to gather myself and find my breath.

"I don't-" I let out a startled cry and shuddered when I felt Coryo's shaft poke its way out of my door and then easily slide in.

"One more?" Warm hands gripped my hips as he filled me to the brim, my overstimulated insides convulsing around him as he spoke.

"N-," I whined shakily, feeling him pull almost all the way out before slipping back in.

"You certainly can," he said. "Baby, just one more. Please give me one more. With pleasurable, plea-laden words, I could only picture the sight on his face. I couldn't take my eyes off his desk to see what was going on, but I figured he was biting his lower lip and that my tight walls were squeezing him tight because to his enormous length.

"You can. Just one more." Coryo let out a few short, breathy gasps, and I did my best to get myself off his desk.

He felt so good being close to me, so comfortable, so completely full. I didn't believe my body could handle it, but before I knew it, I was groaning like before as he filled me up each time he sank in and out.

Then, there was a loud and clear knock at the door, making us freeze and bulge our eyes out of our sockets.

"President? Mr. Jackman is here for the hunger games debate you booked, but you're not answering." Said a clerk through the door.

"We'll finish later, darlin'"

Hunger games taglist:

@rosiahills22

@shanimallina87

@callsign-magnolia

@hardballoonlove

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@buckysteveloki-me

@hookslove1592

@kmc1989

@callsign-dexter

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games fic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus imagine

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messylustt · 10 months

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I really like your stories, and I had an idea. I wanted to ask you if you could write a story where for some reason some of the Spiderman, like Gwen, Hobie, Miles, Peter P. With Mayday, Pavitr, Y/n and Miguel must take a car and Y/n has to sit on top of Miguel because there is no space left, Hobie is driving and he takes a lot of potholes, so Y/n bounces a lot on Miguel and he gets hard, so you know.. it's kind of difficult for them. If you know what I mean.

If it's not a problem thank you in advance 💞 anyway don't worry 🕷️🕸️

bumpy ride — miguel o’hara ( nsfw ). longer name. stuck on miguel’s lap in a car.

“a car?” miguel asks, staring at hobie who's leaning against an old fashioned plymouth barracuda. “mhm,” hobie hums, raising his brows with a smirk. “why can't we just...you know...web sling to the evil guy?” peter asks, watching as miles walks up to hobie and the car clearly already fine with the idea. hobie pats miles shoulder, pleased. “come on...we're tryna be subtle.”

“and you think...” gwen gazes around at everyone. “...like, seven spider-people driving in a car is subtle?”

“eight.” hobie gestures to mayday who's hanging upside down in the baby strap attached to peter. miguel sighs. “we don't have time for this. just get in the car.” he begrudgingly walks towards it, making hobie's smirk widen. “where did you even find it?” you ask, beginning to step closer as well. “he probably stole it." whispered pavitr, as he walks beside you. you hold back an amused smile at this.

“nah, i di'n't steal it, mate.” hobie says, eyeing you both as everyone began to find seats. “i've always been a good cit'izen.” he watches as pavitr slips into the back, scoffing. you raise your brows at hobie, you seeming to be the last one to get in. “and you're definitely not someone who changes their personality 24/7. just for the fun of it.”

hobie shakes his head, that bloody side smile still present. “oh, i luv stayin' consistent, babe.”

liar.

when you opened the car door, looking in for room you realise that all the seats are full, gwen in the passenger seat (miguel having claimed that he really didn't want to see hobie drive up close), while everyone else almost squished in the back. your gaze fell on the closest person to you. miguel. he closes his eyes for a moment seeming to think, before he reaches for your wrist, pulling you down to sit. straight on his lap.

your breath hitches at the fast movement, your body tensing. then his breath is by your ear. “relax...what do you think i was gonna do?...break your arm?” you manage a scoff, shifting slightly so that you could a find a comfortable sitting on his thighs. “no...i thought you were reaching to shut the door in my face.”

“maybe i should have.” miguel mutters just as hobie drives off. throughout the ride your friends talk about a mixture of a plan to defeat this anomaly and how terrible hobie's driving is. and it...was pretty bad. he seemed to like the feel of the excelerator a little too much, as the car drove through radom small potholes. your hand had been gripping the back of a seat, while you occasionally bounced and were forced to shift on miguel.

miguel's grip had slowly moved to your waist, his claws digging in a fraction when you would move right along him. now at first you couldn't really feel miguel's growing bulge, one that made him slightly bare his teeth in a silent snarl. “are you trying to break my hips?” you whisper in question to him, leaning back slightly against his chest to reach his ear. he stiffened, you practically against him entirely. and god was your moving making his chest rise and fall a little quicker.

you had to stop moving so much, or... “i will if you keep moving like that...it's annoying.” he says, trying to seem unbothered. “i can't help that hobie drives like this.” you hiss quietly back. “and you know what's annoying? taking off my suit to see your claw marks.”

you shouldn't have said that, because the visual of you taking off your spider suit and the thought of you being marked by his claws made miguel's hard on grow. now he was annoyed, and turned on. extremely. he purposefully tightened his grip around your waist, now wanting to leave marks as he subtly kept your back to his chest, mouth moving to your ear. then you feel it, and your eyes grow wide in realisation.

thank god your friends were too busy talking (arguing) over something rather loudly, because miguel's hands began to very slowly move your hips along him. butterflies swarm your stomach as you hear a quiet groan in your ear, clearly only meant for you. “miguel — ” you whisper in shock and question.

“shh.” miguel whispered in your ear, your cheeks now feeling flushed. his breathing was harsh, as pleasure shot through him, feeling you rub against him, his hands still slightly moving your hips. “just a little relief...” he almost muttered to himself, but his mouth was still by your ear. “what are you...” you drift off, gulping down your own arousal at the situation, because the small back and forth rubbing of your pussy against him is beginning to make you wet.

“mm...eso es...” miguel quietly mutters, wishing he could move your hips harder against him, but knowing that that'll catch the attention of your friends. you tried to hold back a small groan of your one. “shh, you gotta stay quiet for me”

“w-we shouldn't...” you choke out in a whisper. but miguel's grip hasn't let up, his mouth slightly opening in a silent pant by your neck. “i didn't think you'd feel this good, cariño...carajo.”

“so...good.” he mutters, most of his words sounding as though he's speaking to himself. “i — i can move to someone else's lap...” you suggest, trying to keep your voice normal. miguel shakes his head, his lips brushing your neck. “no...y/n...you're staying right here.” and now you're sure your waist is tainted with miguel's claw marks.

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bluelockmaniac · 29 days

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itoshi rin giving you the last bite of his food. <3 wc; 676

watching rin's pretty face as he chewed on his cheesy potato pancakes wasn't something you had expected to do today, but it also wasn't your fault that rin could make something as simple as eating so tempting. the way the stuffed mozzarella stretched from between your boyfriend's lips and the delicacy had you salivating— you wished you hadn't declined his considerate offer an hour ago, when he called you on the phone and asked if you wanted him to get you something to eat. you were full when he called, so now you couldn't help but watch him with a ravenous gaze and a watering mouth as he eats bite after bite, the colours on the television screen bouncing off his face. "you're drooling," rin pointed out as he once again turns his attention towards you, "i've asked you seven times already, but are you absolutely sure that you don't want a bite?" "y-yes rin, i'm one hundred percent certain!" you laugh awkwardly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve as you notice how the number of cheesy potato pancakes on his plate seem to reduce every few minutes, much to your dismay. "hm..." he mumbles boredly, holding one savory with his fingers and pushing it against your stubbornly shut lips, "liar. open your mouth." you gently push his hand away, shaking your head, "i'm not hungry," you utter, although your firm eye contact with his plate betrays your statement, "i swear." "whatever." he sighs, focusing on the football match on the screen as he enjoys yet another bite. the fact that he could read you like an open book was irritating, but to be fair, your expressions wouldn't make it difficult for anyone to guess that maybe, just maybe, you were hungry. you had no idea why you persisted on being so stubborn when rin had generously offered you his food multiple times— perhaps it was the guilt of taking away the food he bought for himself despite him asking you if you craved for anything that got you so adamant— but either way, you were now eyeing the last crispy, golden coloured piece on his plate. "actually—" you blurted out, shifting on the couch until you were finally beside him. your nails harmlessly dug into his forearm as he looks at you knowingly, a subtle smile forming on his lips. "can i... have one, please?" "it's my last one," he mutters with feigned pettiness as he hands you the last potato pancake with no hesitation, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer to him, "but only because you're so cute." "thanks!" you smile as you lean against him and begin stuffing your face with the crispy good, but unfortunately, much to your disappointment, you wiped off its existence in about a minute. "it was really good..." you say softly while looking down at the empty plate, trying to appreciate this cute situation of your boyfriend giving you his last bite, but seriously, it only aroused your appetite. rin rolls his eyes and tilts your chin to face him, "don't look so upset," he deadpanned, licking the corner of your lips to remove the excess potato crumbs. "but i'm hungry—" "i know," he sighs, getting up and vanishing into the kitchen. he appears a few seconds later with a bag identical to the one for the cheesy potato pancakes, "...which is why i bought you some as well." "ohmigod!" you exclaim excitedly, quickly opening the styrofoam container and welcoming the exquisite aroma, "thank you, rinnie! i'm glad you bought one for me too." he pulls your face in for a quick kiss before squishing your cheeks lightly. "i ought to know by now, considering the amount of times you played this move on me." you softly giggle as you carelessly eat the food in front of you, "you know me so well." rin lays his head down on your lap and yawns softly, your clean hand quick to run its fingers through his hair. "i'd be a fool if i didn't."

comments appreciated <3

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk fluff #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #blue lock rin #blue lock itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #bllk rin #bllk itoshi rin #bllk manga #bllk imagines #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi x you

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raginglesbian2006 · 2 months

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Hi I'm new but I was wondering if you could do hc Alastor x wife!reader who is like Mortichia Addams. Like the long black dress(es) and red lips.

Honestly I see Alastor as an asexual version of Gomez Addams.

Hi! Thank you for sending in the request!! I've been wanting to write something similar to what you suggested lol

Darling, I always wear black

Alastor x wife!reader

Oh, how you had intrigued him the moment the two of you met.

Alastor was on his daily stroll, enjoying how the miserable souls of hell suffered around him as he glanced at the newly opened stores and boutiques.

One of which caught his eye. The decor was very grim but had a certain charm to it. Entering the store, Alastor found himself surrounded by flowers, roses mostly. His ears picked up the sound of a "snip snap" echoing throughout the quiet place.

That is when he saw you, dressed up in a long black gown that stuck to your body, enhancing your curves. You hummed a sweet tune as you cut off the heads of roses and decorated the lonely stems in a vase.

"I do believe that is a rather...unconventional way of arranging flowers." Your eyes shifted to find a rather tall demon- his red attire standing out in contrast to your dark little store.

"I suppose not..." you mused, "but it is just my way of doing things."

Alastor moved closer to you, his clawed hand taking yours gently- watching the lace around your long sleeve droop as he lifted your hand to his lips- kissing your knuckles as a sign of courtesy.

"My name is Alastor, my dear. It's a pleasure to meet you, I say, quite a pleasure!"

Since then, he started visiting your shop quite frequently, often staying back to have a chat after the busy day was over. You enjoyed his presence- he was quite unlike the men you usually had vying for your attention, be it in hell or when you were alive.

Slowly but surely, he had become completely besotted with you. He had always thought he'd fall for someone who wore bright colors and was as lively as he was but your demure and gothic charm had irreversibly enraptured him. Safe to say, his charm had had the same effect on you as well.

"It appears to me that I find myself quite delighted by your presence," you said to him as you sipped your tea, "Some could even say I am..smited? smote?"

"Smitten, I believe, my dear," his eyes half-lidded and smile wider than ever, "And I feel the same way."

It didn't take long for him to present you with a ring.

"Sure it's a tad bit sooner than expected, but why wait, my dear?"

And thus, the two of you became husband and wife. You didn't have a ceremony per se since neither of you enjoyed a large gathering. Both of you just exchanged rings and enjoyed each other's company that day.

After 7 long years of Alastor's absence, you found yourself in front of the Hazbin Hotel in search of answers. You knew a silly project like this would intrigue your husband, so it didn't hurt to look for him there. Besides, his return was made clear to you from the banter he had with Vox over the radio.

The door to the hotel opened to reveal the princess of hell, her eyes wide.

"Greet-" the door slammed shut and then opened again in a split second, "tings." The door shut again.

Your eyebrows scrunched delicately and you let out a puff of air from your red-painted lips in a show of frustration.

The door opened once more. "May I speak now?" you asked, raising one eyebrow as you looked down at the princess.

She stuttered a response which prompted you to introduce yourself to her and the reason for your visit.

"I must say, your idea intrigued me a little, so I decided to pop in for a visit." Hearing you say that, the princess or Charlie as you had gathered from hearing her sales pitch over the news, excitedly bounced on her feet as she led you into the hotel.

While she was introducing you to everyone there, your eyes found Husk, slumped over the bar.

"Greetings, Husker. I would say I'm surprised to see you here but I'm really not," you bluntly stated.

Husk gave out a grunt in reply. Charlie noticed your interaction, "Ooooh you two know each other?"

You let out a laugh, just the one, "We are acquainted, yes. You could say I know the owner of his soul....quite well."

Speaking of, the famed radio demon heard the commotion in the lobby of the hotel and decided to make his presence known by teleporting himself to his destination.

"Charlie, dear, why is there such a buzz-" he paused as his eyes met yours, "Cher..." he trailed off.

"Alastor," your voice was stern, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance...after 7 years, that is."

His smile twitched slightly at your glare. He walked up closer to you and lifted your hand, kissing it, "I missed you, mon cher."

Your eyes softened. His charm had a way of destabilizing your stance. You were supposed to be mad at him, damn it.

Charlie looked puzzled as she asked, "Alastor, do you know our visitor?"

Alastor chuckled as he drew you closer to him by the waist, "Of course I do, she is my wife!"

Everyone, except Husk, was dumbstruck by this new information.

It took a while for Alastor to be in your good graces again, but you couldn't help but give in to his advances. He was your husband after all. One that you loved oh so much.

You had decided to stay with him at the hotel, helping Charlie occasionally with her efforts to make the hotel seem...appealing. Good thing you knew a thing or two about interior designing, however dark or grim your preferences may be.

Niffty had immediately bounced up into your arms the moment she caught wind of your arrival.

"Oh darling, how are you, my sweet?" you asked her as she snuggled up close to you. "I must say, I missed you a whole lot more than my idiotic husband."

Vaggie sidled up close to her girlfriend, "Am I seeing what you're seeing?" Alastor had his head on your shoulder, eyes closed as you ran your fingers through his hair. Charlie's eyes watered, "I know! Aren't the two of them just the sweetest!"

Everyone at the hotel was shocked to see how affectionate the big bad radio demon could be and how much he simped for you. If anyone was looking for Alastor, it's safe to say that he would be found right beside you, one hand on your waist , kissing up your arm affectionately- all the while you reprimanded him for being too touchy albeit, not stopping his onslaught of kisses.

Angel Dust had once asked you, "So uhh... what's a hot gal like you doin' with Mr. tall dark and creepy here?"

Your reply was simple, "He makes me laugh."

The two of you often spent time having tea or rather coffee as per Alastor's preferences, playing the piano together and just relishing in each other's presence.

He had once foolishly suggested a revamp of your wardrobe, trying to squeeze in a few different colors. He was met by your terrifying glare.

"Darling, I always wear black."

You liked to slow dance with him, which he obliged with no hesitance.

You weren't much into swing, preferring a more classy waltz or baroque music but you enjoyed watching him lose himself to the music.

No matter how weird Al was, you loved him all the same.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to reply to this! I got a bit carried away with this request but I do hope it is to your liking!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x wife reader #request

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earlgreyflowers · 5 months

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Classical Conditioning (CL16)

A/N This is my first fic that isn't based off of a request, I hope you guys enjoy it

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Word count - 1.7k

Charles was always grateful for the support you gave him, by his side since won the F2 championship all those years ago. The two of you were inseparable, especially after you finished your degree. You were lucky enough to find a job that meant you could work from home, and so every weekend you would be in the paddock with Charles, always adorned in Ferrari red in some way. Everyone loved you, if not the content on your Instagram at the very least. You'd celebrated with Charles when he got his first win, when he won in Spa and in Monza, the Ferrari 1-2; everything you'd been through together.

But this season was already rough on Charles, from the strategy failures to the car itself, he was frustrated. He had no control over anything, so you hatched a plan. You were going to teach Charles to get used to not being in control, something he'd had throughout your relationship. You sat him down, leg bouncing nervously. Charles' concerned eyes met yours, his hand coming to rest on your leg, "It's okay mon cherie, you can tell me anything." He mutters, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your thigh. You release a deep breath, "I was thinking, that maybe, to help you with having less control, we could, uhm, try something new." You murmur, voice quiet. Charles' eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowed, "New?" He questions.

"In the bedroom?" You say, doubt creeping into your tone. "It's just, I think it might help you to be more comfortable, if it's not something you want to try that's totally fine, just an idea." You ramble, nervous to hear his response. "I want to try, I've kinda wanted to for a while to be completely honest, I think it would be hot." He tells you, soft smiling his gracing his cheeks as they turn a light rose colour. You return his smile, tension leaving your shoulders as the two of you discuss boundaries and ideas for the rest of the night.

The first time Charles asks you to take control is after qualifying in Spain. Charles found himself annoyed that after he seemed to be on the up the car had failed him again, leaving him in P19 for tomorrow's race. You ease him into it, simply teasing him with your mouth until he's begging you to just let him have something, to feel his orgasm within reach. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, suckling gently and dipping your tongue into the slit. He whines out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, the vein of his cock throbbing against your tongue. You slide up his body, kissing away the tear the falls from his eye before leaning into his lips. The moment you wrap your hand around his cock and whisper against his lips, "Cum for me mon amour." He can't stop himself. He erupts in white over your fist, stomach clenching, thighs shaking, moans of thank you leaving his mouth. You remove your hand from his member, some of his cum covering your thumb. You tap it lightly on his lips. Charles eagerly opens his mouth, taking in your thumb and sucking it clean, eyes shut in pleasure.

After that night Charles' season seems to turn around again, 5 consistent points finishes in a row. Charles is adamant that it's down to your presence, grateful that you're by his side in support. Then Zandvoort happens. Between the contact in the opening lap and the missing tires, Charles was devastated. He was dead silent, the whole way back to the hotel, simply holding your hand and squeezing every couple of minutes. He stays silent as you open the door to the hotel room, skulking into the shower. You sit on the bed, waiting for him to return from the shower. He eventually kneels down in front of you, hair messy from the shower, towel tied around his waist. "I want to forget about it, please help me mon amour." He whispers, hands resting on your thighs. "How do you want me to help Charlie?" You ask, hand tilting his chin to look up at you. His eyes are lidded, clouded with lust as he stares into your own. "Want to make you feel good." He mutters, eyes fluttering shut when your thumb traces his cheeks. He worships you all night, first with his tongue, and then with his fingers, and then both. The sounds filling the room are filthy, your moans and his whines, the slurping sounds coming from his mouth against you. When he finally pulls away you trace your thumb over his lips, collecting your cum. Once again he takes your thumb in his mouth, savouring your taste.

You're convinced that your idea had helped Charles, he was doing well, top five finishes week after week. You stand in the Ferrari garage, biting your nail as Charles begins his final qualifying lap in Austin. It feels like you don't breathe, for the next minute and 34 seconds you stand stock still. P1. Charles had taken his third pole position of the season and the garage erupted, yells and cheers spilled out into the pitlane. You raced to find Charles, engulfing him in a hug and kissing his helmut as he thanks you profusely. Sunday came along and you had never been more nervous, praying that this went well for Charles. He drops down the grid through the race, losing pole position and eventually finishing P6 after Ferrari fail to come up with a good strategy... again. Just two hours later, both him and Lewis were disqualified. You're right next to Charles as they break the news to him, his face dropping in disappointment. "There's nothing I can do, it's completely fair. It's just so frustrating," he begins to explain, "I guess I'm just glad it's only P6 being taken from me and not a podium like Lewis." You wrap your arms around him once more, his head resting on your shoulder as he sighs. That night he asks you to help him once more, and you spend the night bouncing on his cock as he gags on your fingers. His spit spills out of his mouth as he cums inside you, eyes rolling back and cheeks flushed red.

The same routine continues, in Brazil after he is unable to start, he drags you back to his drivers' room. He locks the door before begging you to take him in your mouth, it doesn't take him long to cum, spilling his load down your throat. You hum against his length, continuing to suckle on the tip as his thighs quake. His whimpers increase as you push him as far as you can, mouth encasing his sensitive cock as his fingers fist into your hair. He eventually taps the side of your cheek and you let him out of your mouth with a pop, standing in front of him as he pants heavily. "So good to me mon amour, que ferais-je sans toi?" He mutters and you smile against his chest.

Vegas is his redemption, finally back on the podium. It was the perfect weekend for him, gaining control over the car and showing what he was made of. Being able to put himself on the podium with both Red Bulls causes you to beam up at him. Charles shoots you a wink, smirking at the thought of what the pair of you will get up to in celebration tonight. Slightly tipsy, the two of you giggle as you stumble through your hotel room door. Before you know it Charles is shirtless underneath you, panting as you scratch your nails down his chest, his wrists tied to the bed with his Ferrari neckties. He can't help but watch, his neck craning as you touch yourself. One hand down your panties as the other moves to palm his bulge. Your orgasm rolls through you, a moan of Charles' name leaving your lips as your back arches. You crawl over him, hovering over his thigh as you begin to use him for your pleasure. Your underwear discarded, you reach down, coating your fingers in your juices. Charles waits for you to run your fingers over his lips before opening his mouth wide, tongue out ready to taste you. He sucks your fingers dry, whining at the taste of you as you cum against his thigh. You use every inch of his body that night; his tongue, his fingers, his abs, his thighs. He's desperate to cum by the time you sink down on his length, begging you to just let him cum inside you. You take pity on him, grinding lightly and clenching your walls to drain his cock. He practically passes out when you're done, falling asleep against you as massage hand lotion into his reddened wrists.

Both of you breathe a sigh of relief by the time the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix rolls around. Counting down the days until you can say goodbye to the SF-23, the pair of you go out for dinner with some of the grid. George, Alex, Max, Daniel, Carlos, and their respective partners join you both. Laughter carries through the restaurant as George breaks out in a coughing fit from Alex telling ridiculous jokes. Charles' smile fills you with joy, grateful to see your boyfriend carefree for a change. He convinces the table to order dessert, ordering himself a tiramisu, claiming that it's one of the best he's had outside of Italy. He barely breathes as he shovels down the dessert, Carlos looking at him with a concerned expression. "Dios mio Charles, hungry are you?" He chuckles. Charles blushes lightly, nodding as you drops the spoon onto the plate. "Sorry, it's just really good." He laughs. You turn to face him, he has a small drop of cream on the corner of his lips. Without thinking you reach up, swiping your thumb against the corner of his mouth to collect the cream. On instinct Charles tilts his head, capturing your thumb in his mouth and sucking the cream off the tip with a hum. The pair of you freeze as everyone looks at you in shock. Lily and Carmen are giggling in the corner as George and Alex smirk. Max raises an eyebrow, as does Carlos, both smirking at you. Daniel is the first to speak, "That seemed a bit too natural for you there Charlie, do that often?" He laughs.

Charles blushes once more as a smile spreads across your face, your hand rests on his thigh squeezing lightly as you direct the topic of conversation elsewhere.

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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Okay, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head, waiting for you to reopen suggestions, haha. How do you think the Origins Companions + Halsin, Rolan, Dammon, and Zevlor would react if they found out that Tav had been hiding a very serious injury from them? The kind of injury where Tav is convinced that they're fine and they don't want to worry anyone with something they can handle on their own, especially the people they care most for, but as they try to ignore the injury it only gets worse until it's potentially life threatening and they can't keep up the facade anymore. I will leave it up to you whether or not Tav and the other individual are in a romantic relationship. I think both ways have potential for wonderful angst 😆

ooohhh noooooo! but also oh yes, LOVE this sort of angst lol. written as if you have had an infection come on from an injury. this is gonna be a long list so let's buckle up...

Astarion

really tries to hide his panic but fails miserably.

can't help but start snapping - how could you keep something like this from him?

you try to give your excuses but he waves them away, angry, but mostly because he's terrified that he might have lost you.

if he has any healing potions he helps you take them, if he doesn't he immediately... sources some from somewhere.

holds you as tight as he dares, worried that he will aggravate the injury otherwise.

as you begin to heal and drift off to sleep he spends the whole night watching you rest, making sure that you're still breathing, still safe. doesn't mind when you cuddle up to him in the night, sleepily.

Gale

curses himself for not noticing your condition. he's a wizard, damn it! he's meant to be bloody perceptive.

wishes for the first time ever that he didn't just know wizard spells. wishes he knew how to heal, too.

makes you as comfortable as he can while he finds a book about what he can do for an infected wound, probably swallowing his pride and going to Shadowheart if it's bad enough.

you manage a weak, "Gale, you don't have to--", and he cuts you off, "if you're going to insist that I don't have to look after you, I'm telling you that I do."

fixes you something to help with the pain and infection, makes sure you drink it all despite the horrid taste, then tucks you into his bedroll to let you rest.

when you go to reach out and cuddle him he slips into your arms, presses his lips to your hair, and whispers as you fall asleep about how much you scared him. about how he'd never be able to lose you.

Lae'zel

only realises how unwell you are when you fall over mid-journey.

"tsk'va! why did you hide the extent of your injuries from me?"

hauls you onto her back and carries you back to camp, muttering about your foolishness the whole time.

makes you comfortable in her tent and uses her knowledge of githyanki medicine to help start healing you.

it isn't comfortable as she works on your infection but for the first time you feel her hands being soft rather than vicious.

"you should not have kept this from me." "I know. I'm sorry." "hm. ridiculous thing. zhak vo'n'fynh duj."

goes and intimidates the camp into being quiet so you can rest. it works. this is the nicest she's ever been to you. you could get used to it.

Shadowheart

obviously this is not a huge problem for her, but she is still worried that it got so far without her noticing.

immediately heals you, pouring far too many spell slots into your body in order to get it up and running again.

it helps, immediately breaking the fever you've been nursing, and the touch of Shadowheart's hand to your face is cooling and reassuring.

"lady shar teaches us to embrace our pain... but not like this. you should have known better. you could have died."

her hand slips down to cup your cheek, you cover it with one of your own. she's telling you off but you can tell it's because she cares.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." "I know. don't do it again."

she smiles and the ache in your heart is lifted, too.

Wyll

panics.

you collapse on day in camp and he immediately calls on the others for help, not so proud as to be unable to admit when something is out of his knowledge. he is not a healer. he needs help.

he manages to catch you in his arms as you tumble, hugging you close to his chest while magic is worked or a healer checks you over.

lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when you begin to stabilise.

helps you back to your tent to rest, gently chiding you but letting you know that he's glad you're alright.

when your hand weakly comes up to touch him, he indulges you in a kiss to let you know how relieved he is.

constantly watching you on the battlefield from that moment on. if he can help it, you'll never be hurt again.

Karlach

another panicker.

scoops you up in her arms and holds you to her chest, running to the tent of the nearest healer in camp - or, if you're in the city, kicking down the door of a local doctor.

begging the healer to check you over, but is reluctant to let you go. if she stops holding you it's like she's relinquishing control and that scares the life out of her.

you're healed and she feels you start to stir in her arms, peppering you with kisses of relief, choking through her tears that you're never to scare her like that again.

carries you back home, even if you're totally capable of walking. she just wants to make sure you're okay.

Halsin

sternly disappointed that you didn't tell him, but more annoyed that he didn't notice something was wrong himself. how could he not see how out of balance with nature you were?

squirrels you away to his tent to heal you, make you soothing and medicinal teas, his big hands over the source of the infection.

you burrow into his touch, into his chest, and you end up sitting in his lap as he heals you.

he wants to tell you off a little, but is more relieved that you're alright. encourages you to share all your burdens with him.

kisses you on the forehead, then on the mouth when he's sure you're strong enough for it not to knock you flat.

Dammon

my poor boy is just a blacksmith, so though he doesn't exactly panic, he does scoop you up and try to find a healer as soon as he can.

waits quietly and nervously as you are examined, silently cursing himself for being too busy to see how you were hurt. he's meant to be better than this. he's meant to love you, how didn't he notice?

when you come to he can't stop apologising, and it takes several of your kisses to soothe him and tell him it was not his fault but yours.

he makes you promise that you'll always tell him when you're hurt. has you look into his eyes and swear it.

he can't do much on the battlefield but he can protect you where he can.

Rolan

another one cursing that he doesn't know healing spells.

"you aren't meant to die, gods damn it! you're meant to be strong... what good am I if I can't keep you safe..."

rushes you to the best doctor in Baldur's Gate. pays for all the treatment that you could need. holds your hand at your bedside for your entire recovery... until you come back to consciousness, of course, at which point he just starts telling you off for being stupid enough to get into his mess in the first place.

you grab him by the collar and drag him down for a kiss. that finally shuts him up. but he never lets you forget how foolish you were.

Zevlor

practical but still worried about you.

you collapse in the field and he finds a safe place to hide the both of you from dangerous eyes, using his Lay on Hands ability to channel his magic into healing.

you try to apologise but a finger to your lips silences you, and all you can do is watch in quiet wonder as he burns the infection out with his Paladin's light.

when you're better he gently chides you. tells you that you have people relying on your leadership, and that a problem shared means there are more heads working on how to fix it.

when he sees how sorry you are lets you cuddle into him. when you say you'll repay him, he insists your happiness and well-being is enough for an old warrior like him.

does take the kiss you offer, though. he's been wanting to do that for a while...

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

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I have it all right here (Lando Norris)

Matilda Norris makes her way earthside

Note: english is not my first language. It's dad!Lando, so you know I shrieked as soon as I saw this request ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy, labour/birth, hospitals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Lando", you called, shaking your husband as he slept peacefully next to you. For the past 24 hours, more than the rest of the pregnancy, he had been by your side since you kept feeling Braxton-Hicks contractions, doting on you as much as he could so you could be a little bit more comfortable.

He held you in his embrace as he whispered sweet things as you cried, feeling all of the emotions as you whispered "I feel like I've been pregnant for decades, Lando! And I can't do anything on my own", you hiccuped as he rubbed your back sweetly, "you're growing our babygirl until she's ready to come and meet us, that's not nothing, my love", he would soothe, kissing your head multiple times as the pressure on your lower belly increased.

"Are you having Braxton-Hicks again?", he mumbled groggily, rolling over to face you after turning his bedside lamp on.

"I think these are real contractions, like, the ones I actually have when I'm in labour", you smiled.

"How are you feeling? Do they hurt a lot?", he wondered. It was amazing how his brain could switch on like that, going from sleepy to fully aware in seconds.

"It feels like really bad period cramps, but they're definitely worse than what I've felt these past couple of days", you reasoned, cuddling into his open arms, "you know this means we're that little bit closer to meeting her, right?", you tried to shift his attention, failing miserably as he grabbed his phone, "we should track them, so we know when to go to the hospital", he opened the app and propped the phone by your face so you could tap the screen.

"I'm good, love", you tranquilized, touching his temple lovingly, "I'm actually excited! We're going to meet our babygirl soon!".

Sure, there had been moments where you didn't feel amazing, morning sickness that lasted all day, tears that came out of nowhere when you felt like you had been pregnant for the longest time ever, pain in you back and hips and not being able to do things like you used to. But it was so worth it. You had created a new life with the love of your life and although she wasn't planned, it didn't mean that she wasn't wanted or loved. Much to the contrary, you and Lando loved that little girl so much already, as well as everyone else around you, falling in love the minute they saw your ultrasound.

When they started feeling too much for you, Lando moved you both to the shower, supporting your hips as you swayed from side to side, the warm water from the shower practically erasing the pressure for now, "this probably will be the last time in a while that I'll be naked with you and you won't find me weird", you blushed.

Your husband quickly tutted, "no way I'll find you weird, you're so beautiful, Y/N. You're my wife, the mother of my babygirl, you're making me a father, and I will never look at you and think anything less that you're gorgeous, amazing and unstoppable", he added, looking for your eyes and ensuring the message got through to you, "you're the best, Lando", you smiled, kissing his lips before wiping your hands on the towell, tapping the screen to stop the count for the contraction as a message popped up, "it says it is a good time to follow up with the midwife as they're coming closer together", you showed him.

Helping you out and getting dressed in a comfy dress, the sun was rising outside as you bounced on your ball while Lando called the midwife, "Hi, Amelia! It's Lando, did you see our texts? Y/N seems to be in labour", you heard him say on the phone, fingers close to his mouth as he bit his nails nervously while giving her as much information as he knew.

"She says she will be waiting for us at the hospital", Lando informed as he stored his phone in his pocket, "what is missing from the bags?".

"Hmm, phone chargers for both of our phones, the pregnancy pillow - I think it's in our bed -, and I think that's it, the rest has already been packed", you smiled, rubbing your bump, "we need to bring the ball but I'll only let you take this away from me when we go to the car.

"C'mon, my love, easy easy", Lando guided you, hand on the small of your back as you walked to the car, "I can do this on my own, you know that, right?", you giggled, "holding his hand as he opened the door for you, "I know you can, doesn't mean that I don't want to help you or be here in case something happens", he charmed, making sure you were sitting as comfortably as you could.

Running back inside, Lando got all the bags and brought them to the car, closing the trunk and meeting you in the front, "Let's go have a baby", he said, kissing your cheek before switching the car into gear.

Driving to the hospital was fine, making you think that if you could, you should give birth while Lando drove you around as it was the calmest you had seen him since your contractions started.

"Let's not worry until, and if, we have to, okay?", Lando nudged at you, driving into the parking lot and seeing Amelia waving at you.

Taking a deep breath, you took off your seatbelt once the car was parked and opened the door, "Good morning! Y/N, how are we doing this morning?", she smiled, helping you get out as Lando thanked the nurse that had joined you to carry the bags.

"I'm good, although these are getting serious now", you breathed through, accepting Amelia's hand.

"I'm going to park the car and then I'll join you upstairs, okay?", Lando said, kissing your forehead sweetly, "I'll be quick, baby, you won't even notice I'm gone", he smiled.

After checking you in and going up to your room, Amelia helped you into the hospital gown as she introduced the rest of the team you hadn't met yet, "my husband should be here any mi- oh, there he is!", you pointed to the curly haired man asking one of the nurses for you.

"I'm here, I'm here!", he said, breathing in, "I'm Lando, the husband, and father to the little one", he introduced himself, greeting everyone in the room before coming to sit next to you, "need help with anything?", he noticed you fumbling with the sleeves, folding them as Amelia explained what they were expecting to happen and what they would do.

As everyone else left the room, Lando helped you go back to bounce on the ball, grabbing a stool with wheels so he could be at the same level, "are they getting bad?", he questioned. Your eyebrows furrowed more than they relaxed and your eyes were shut most of the time.

Smiling at his voice, you opened your eyes, "they're getting closer now, stronger too. Bouncing isn't as effective as it was when we were home, so we either move to the big drugs or we have to find something else to help", you wiggled your eyebrows.

"We still have all of those stretches to go through, I also remember that one article about how touches just out-", you were quick to slap his arm, "your hands are not going anywhere near the downstairs region, oh, no no no, mister. As much as I believe your fingers could work their magic, I don't want you to be around the area that's going to stretch and push a human out. Not today, baby, not today", you threatened lightly, joking with him despite knowing he genuinely had the best intentions.

"Mum sends her well wishes and a bunch of pink ballons", Lando showed you the text message in the family group chat, seeing your face contort in pain, "hey, do you want to move to the bed or walk around a little bit?", he suggested.

"I want up", you said, holding your arms out so he could support you as someone knocked on the door, "hello Y/N, we came in here to check your dilation. Is that okay?", Amelia asked, putting on gloves.

"I just got up", you sighed, not wanting to sit or lie down again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so rude", you looked up, "where do you need me?".

"Standing up is fine, dear", Amelia crouched down, "I'm just going to touch you", she informed, doing so before coming back up, "you're at 7 cm, dear! You're progressing very well. And, Y/N, we're here to make this as comfortable as possible for you, you don't have to apologise for voicing your needs".

Your husband crouched down, searching for your eyes and hoping to see what you needed through them when you bent, "Here, lean on me, gorgeous", Lando urged, standing straight and grabbing your arms and lacing them around his neck, hands joint on the nape of his neck as you allowed your hips to loosen and allow your abdomen to rest a little too, gravity doing its thing. For anyone else, you included, this would've been a band-aid fix until you fell down, your legs not taking in the force and collapsing soon, but luckily for you, your husband was an athlete with unusually good neck strength so, for a good while, this would work.

"Is that nice?", he wondered, checking in if this position wasn't at the very least hurting and causing you even more pain.

"It's good, yes", you breathed out, syncing with him as you looked up him, your chin resting just below his sternum, "hey there", he whispered as his soft tone brought a smile to your face, almost numbing all the pressure you felt.

"Hey", you blushed as you felt his gaze on you even though he was not looking or concerned about anyone else in that room other than you and his little girl, "I don't know why we've never done this before, I'm actually comfortable", you joked, "glad we found out sooner than later, we can adopt this greeting from here on", he joked back, a little relieved that you were feeling a little bit better.

"I want up, again", you groaned, "I feel like pushing, and I don't know if I can, call someone, please", you asked Lando as you walked about the room once he helped you to stand, ringing the bell, "you're doing so well, love, so so so well", he whispered, holding you as you swayed from side to side.

"Y/N! Do you think it's time?", the OB asked, "I feel like I have to push, but I'm afraid of doing something wrong, so I need someone to check and make sure I'm not doing something bad for me or for my baby", you explained, humming as she approached you.

"It's time to push, Y/N!", the OB winked at you as she put her gloves on, "do you know how you want to do this?", she questioned.

"Can I have him behind me? My back is killing me but I don't want to sit", you tried your best to explain the vision you had in your head.

Lando was quick to push your back gently against his chest as the nurses and Amelia covered the floor around you with disposable covers, "you can hold her by placing your arms under hers - yes, like that -, that way Y/N can let her body do what it needs to do", she guided as Lando held you under your armpits, hands lacing on your chest, "you've got this, my love", he whispered.

"When you feel the contraction, just push and go along with it!", she urged as she sat in position to catch your baby. You allowed your body to fall against your husband, hoping his strength wouldn't fail you now.

Your body urged you to push and you did what it told you, faintly feeling Lando's lips on your sweaty forehead as he whispered words of encouragement while you pushed, "just a little more, I promise, gorgeous, you're doing so well bringing Tilly to us", he said.

Five big pushes and your baby girl was earthside in Amelia's arms, and with a few wiggles, baby Matilda let out her first cry.

"Should we lay Iin the bed now, mummy?", one of the nurses asked as she helped Lando move you to the bed right next to you as they cut the chord.

"Here's your babygirl, congratulations!", she said, putting the little human on your chest after you let one of the sleeves drop so her skin touched yours, "hello, my love, we're your mummy and daddy", you cooed, tears falling from your eyes as you touched her cheeks, kissing her fingers as she seemed to noticed her movements had a little bit more freedom now.

"Hey, beautiful girl", Lando hiccuped, not having two cares in the world that he was crying in a room full of people. He only cared about you, rubbing your shoulder, and the little baby on your chest. His daughter.

"Now we're gonna need to take this little girl to check everything while you deliver the placenta alright?", one of the nurses said and you extended your arms so she could grab him, "I'll stay her with her, if that's okay", Lando checked.

"We'll do it here, you'll still be in the same room", she smiled as she moved to the counter on the side of the room, pulling out the materials she needed like the measuring tape, a scale and such.

"I'll just be in the way there", he said with loving (and still a bit teary) eyes, "I love you so much, baby. Thank you for this, thank you, thank you", Lando said, brushing the hair away from your eyes.

"Thank you for not letting me give up, and for letting me use you like monkey bars in the playground", you smiled, puckering your lips so he would take the hint and kiss them.

The moment Matilda was placed back in her daddy's arms and chest, Lando was sure he would do anything in the world that he needed to do to make sure his family was safe and happy. He vowed to always be there whenever you and his daughter needed, to support you everytime even if he wasn't physically close and to always love you both, no matter what.

"You look so much like mummy, gorgeous girl", he whispered, "you have her chubby cheeks, her nose, although hers is not as button like as yours, but the resemblance is there. You're so loved, babygirl. You have so many uncles waiting to shower you with kisses and presents, grandparents that can't wait to meet you. And me and mummy have wanted you for so long. It wasn't, maybe, in a timing we figured would be best, but the more we thought about it, the more we figured that maybe there wouldn't have been a great timing ever, so your surprise was the best one, ever. I met your mummy because of our work, or part of what I do as well, you'll soon find out. She's so strong, just like you, eh?", he chuckled as she held his finger in her fist with the reflexive tight grip, "and she's kind, persistent, so intelligent, and I hope you get all of those traits, too. You're our dreams come true, Matilda", he said as he kissed her forehead, making her scrunch deliciously against his naked chest.

"How's everyone in here?", Amelia asked after she knocked on the door, to which you replied after the noise woke you up, "we're doing good, the food helped a lot, thank you", referring to the tray of food they brought you as you had barely gotten any sleep since the day before and did not have much of an appetite during labour.

"Now we should see this little one's tummy, if that's okay. Because any minute now I think she'll be hungry", she asked as Lando put on a shirt after placing your daughter on your chest.

Uncovering your chest after joking about everyone in the room having been all in the up in there and how it wasn't a boob flashing that was going to compromise you further, you urged your babygirl to latch on your nipple.

"Alright, let's get this baby to latch, shall we? I'm probably going to have to touch you if that's okay", the nurse said while you nodded, "C'mon, little one, you can't be too lazy about this, it's right there ready for you!", she smiled as she touched her cheek, the reflex immediate as she suckled, "Good job, Matilda", she whispered, looking at your vitals.

"And you, Y/N? How are you feeling?", she questioned as she registered the numbers on her iPad, "I'm good, a little tired, but otherwise fine and very much in love", you blushed, touching Matilda's cheek.

"Lando?", Amelia finally asked, bringing Lando out of his focus as he watched you and your daughter.

Sighing, Lando had the look of love, as Max would often tell him whenever his eyes glossed over and he had the biggest smile on his face, "I'm on cloud nine. I have both of my girls finally with me, they're well and they're healthy. I'm on cloud nine, indeed, I don't need anything else. I have it all right here".

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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hyperactively-me · 4 months

Note

Okay but king ghost if his queen was kidnapped or held for ransom?? I just want some protective ghost in my life

the way i had this idea planned for a while already, but anon, our brainwaves are connecting. i’ve gotten literally countless requests for this same idea. if you sent in a request similar to this, i’m so sorry, i wasn’t ignoring you, i've just had this planned for a while! (word count: 5.8k)

king!ghost x reader -- taken

warnings: kidnapping, physical fighting, physical injuries/blood/bruises, semi-vague descriptions of torture, torture tactics, throw up, restraints, heavy angst, i guess a happy ending? maybe??? idk 😭, ummmm idk what else... please please please let me know if there's anything i've missed. this is a dark chapter! check your media consumption based off the warnings!

It was a quiet night. Eerily quiet. The sounds of the summer insects ceased, the hot air still, unmoving. You were in bed, trying to sleep. You had no clue what time it was, all you knew is that you were hot and exhausted.

You roll onto your side, huffing as you throw the covers off your body. You close your eyes again, trying to will yourself to sleep.

A moment later, you hear a creak coming from the far side of the room where the doors to the balcony are.

You immediately sit up, scanning the room.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice wavering as you slip out of bed. You immediately grab your knife from the drawer of your bedside table, walking around the side of your bed to stare at your slightly ajar balcony door.

Your heart drops in your chest, but before you can say anything, a hand holding a rag clamps around your mouth. Soap was right outside your door. If you could just— Your scream is muffled as you try to fight off the intruder, swinging your knife back and hitting flesh, trying to stomp on their foot, kick them, anything. The intruder lets out a strangled cry from your stab, pulling your head back farther. You know you’ve made contact when you feel blood trickle down your hand. Serves them right for trying to kidnap you. The intruder wraps their arm around your torso, yanking you back as they shove the rag over your nose, forcing you to inhale the fumes.

Your movements become more sloppy as the fumes enter your nostrils, your eyes fluttering as you fight with everything in you to stay awake. Your knife clatters on the ground as you become limp.

“That’s it, go to sleep,” a man’s voice whispers in your ear, sending a cold chill throughout your body. And with that, you succumb to unconsciousness.

. . .

You wake up in a cold, damp cell. You go to rub your eyes, but are stopped by the clanking of metal chains. You look down, and your hands are bound together by heavy, metal manacles.

“What the—” you say, pulling at the restraints multiple times to no avail, the iron bolted into the wall to prevent you from running. “No, no, no no no—” you cry out, flailing as you try to free yourself from the cuffs. Your heart is racing in your chest, how could this happen? The overwhelming urge to cry washes over you, but you bite your lip to stop yourself.

Your body shivers at the low temperature of the cell, the stone keeping the cold air stale in your cell. You’re still in what you wore to bed which was…not much. You push yourself to standing, walking up to the bars of the cell, trying your best to peek out into the hallway.

The hallway is dimly lit, revealing the cold, unforgiving walls of what appears to be an underground dungeon of some sort. The air is cool, and the distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridors. Panic tightens its grip on you as you assess your surroundings.

“Hey! Is anyone there?” you shout, your voice bouncing off the stone walls. There's no response, just the eerie silence of the place. You take a deep breath, fighting against the rising sense of despair.

As you peer down the hallway, you catch a glimpse of movement. Footsteps approach, and your heart races anew. A figure emerges from the shadows, wearing a uniform that tells you all you need to know. It’s a uniform from the Southern Kingdom. You back away from the bars, pressing your back up against the wall behind you.

“Your majesty,” the figure says, their voice devoid of any emotion. “You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Your mind races with questions, but the figure remains stoic, indifferent to you cowering in the corner. The reality of your situation sets in, and a mix of fear and frustration swirls within you.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand, desperation lacing your words.

The person ignores your questions, producing a set of keys to unlock the cell door. The heavy door creaks open, revealing a corridor lined with more cells. The person steps inside the cell, much to your dismay. Your breathing picks up as he steps towards you, afraid of retaliation. Instead, he makes his way towards the wall where your manacles are attached. With a key, he releases the chain from the wall and takes it in his grip. Shortening the length of the chain, he yanks on it, causing you to stumble forward.

“Walk,” he commands, basically dragging you behind him out of your cell. You contemplate pulling against him, but not before you spot the sword on his hip. Without further thought, you lunge forward, pushing the man to the ground in front of you as you reach for his sword with your bound hands.

The man grunts as he hits the cold, stone floor. Seizing the opportunity, you manage to grab the hilt of his sword with your restrained hands, the metal feeling cold against your skin. Adrenaline surges through you as you pull the sword free from its scabbard.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you point the weapon at the man. “Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand again, your voice trembling with fear and anger.

The man on the floor looks up at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face. Despite the advantage of the sword in your hands, he doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. The nonchalant look on his face makes you even angrier, and you don’t hesitate pressing the tip of the sword against his shoulder. “You won’t find answers by waving that around,” he states calmly.

Before you can react, the man kicks you out from under your feet, causing you to drop the sword as your hands instinctively go to catch yourself – that is, catch yourself the best cuffed hands can.

You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through your body. Groaning, you roll onto your side, the cold stones digging into your skin, surely leaving a bruise where you fell. The man swiftly rises to his feet, his expression unchanged.

“Come along, now,” he says as he yanks the chains, completely unbothered.

You struggle to your feet, the manacles limiting your movements. Glaring at the man, you reluctantly follow as he leads you through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground dungeon. The man, seemingly unfazed, leads you through the dark, winding corridors of the underground dungeon. The chill in the air makes you shiver, both from the cold and the anxiety that tightens your chest.

As you walk, you try to gather your thoughts. How did you end up in the hands of the Southern Kingdom? How did the man breach the castle walls and enter your bedroom? How long have you been gone? Where are you? Where is Simon? Johnny? The questions swirl in your mind, but the stoic silence of your captor offers no answers.

The dimly lit passageways seem endless, twisting and turning without rhyme or reason. Eventually, you arrive at a heavy, iron door guarded by two Southern Kingdom soldiers. They exchange a nod with your captor, who proceeds to unlock the door. It creaks open, revealing a dimly lit room.

The room is adorned with flickering torches, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. A wooden table sits in the center, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs. You notice there’s a guard standing watch in the corner of the room, and two other people sitting in chairs, most likely waiting for your arrival. The air is thick with tension as you’re pushed into one of the chairs.

“Watch it,” you growl, slightly folding into yourself in the chair.

The figure steps back, motioning to the other two people in the room. One of them is wearing a mask that conceals their features, leaving only their cold, calculating eyes visible. You try to read any emotion in their eyes, but they remain expressionless.

“Who are you, and why am I here?” you demand for the third time, your voice wavering between defiance and desperation. You look between the three people, anger bubbling up within you.

The man who brought you here remains silent for a moment, studying you with an unsettling intensity. Finally, he speaks, his words measured and devoid of any warmth. “You wouldn’t have gone with us willingly, so I am sorry you have to be here this way.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

The figure’s eyes narrow at your display of defiance. “Your insolence won't change your circumstances.”

You move to stand up from the chair, but you’re pushed back down by the guard lingering in the room. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t resist.”

You stare at him, the glare still plainly visible on your face. He seems satisfied enough with your cooperation.

“Now, you’re here because your kingdom has assets and resources we need. Your husband, the great King Ghost, won’t give up easily, but we have leverage now, don’t we?”

You should’ve known.

A chill runs down your spine. You clench your fists, frustration and fear fueling your determination.

“Tell me what you want,” you demand, your voice firm despite the tension in the room.

The figure leans forward, resting their hands on the table, their face just inches from yours. “Your cooperation, your majesty. Tell us what you know, and we won’t hurt you.”

Your blood runs cold at that. Hurt you? Now that caught your attention.

You raise an eyebrow. “So, what? You plan to use me as a bargaining chip to force Ghost’s hand?”

“Yes. You’re one of his only weaknesses,” says the man who hasn’t spoken until now. “Ever since you sent your reinforcements, our army has been experiencing some… setbacks. We were going to come to this as a last resort, but the time came to use you in our strategy.”

He’s rolling up his sleeves with care, pulling some intimidating tools out of the drawer of the table.

He notices you eyeing the tools warily. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t be using these unless you really won’t listen.”

“And, just a brief mention before we start the questioning, you should really do more thorough background checks on your staff. You were given over to us by one of your own. Within the palace, might I add.”

With a swift motion, the man wearing the mask pulls it off their head, revealing a face you didn’t expect. It's someone you recognize, someone from your own court—an advisor you thought was loyal, someone who had been with you especially over the past few weeks.

“Edmund?” you gasp, disbelief and betrayal coloring your voice. “How could you?”

Edmund avoids your gaze, his eyes fixed on the table. “It was never personal, your majesty. The Southern Kingdom made an offer, and I couldn’t refuse.”

You seethe with anger, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Greater good? Kidnapping me in the middle of the night? Betraying me? What greater good could possibly justify this?”

He shrugs. “Money.”

With that, Edmund slinks out of the room.

The word echoes through the room, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Money. The one thing that could corrupt even the seemingly loyal. Edmund’s betrayal stings deeper than any blade, and you struggle to comprehend how someone you trusted could sell you out.

“Cooperate, and you won’t have to endure unnecessary pain,” one of the men states coldly, motioning to the tools.

Your eyes narrow at the proposition. “And if I refuse?”

A hand slaps your cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Refusing won't make this any easier for you.”

Your cheek throbs from the slap, but you meet his gaze defiantly. You won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. You can’t.

The man with the tools takes a step forward, his gaze fixed on you like a predator closing in on its prey. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

You glance at the guard, a mixture of anger and disappointment in your eyes.

“Now, let’s start with something simple. Kastron’s silver supply. Where is it located?” he demands, his patience wearing thin. “Start talking, little princess.”

. . .

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you were dragged into this interrogation room, but all you know is that your body positively aches. You were treated relentlessly, punched to your gut and slapped at the expense of one of your captor’s short tempers. Thankfully they haven’t used the tools on you, but you can’t help but be weary of them. Your body slumps in the chair, pain radiating from your abdomen. The cold, harsh reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders. Sweat beads on your forehead, a mixture of fear and physical exertion.

The interrogators stand around you, unsatisfied with the information you've provided so far. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with tension and the acrid scent of burning torches.

“Last chance,” he sneers, the coldness in his eyes sending shivers down your spine.

You grit your teeth, your jaw aching from the force of their blows. The loyalty to your kingdom surges within you. You won't betray your people, no matter the cost.

“I won’t... betray... Kastron,” you manage to spit out, defiance in your eyes.

The interrogator scowls, and without warning, delivers another brutal blow to your stomach. The pain is unbearable, and you gasp for breath.

“Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” the man with the tools taunts, a sadistic grin on his face.

As the interrogators prepare for another round of questioning, the heavy door to the room swings open. A new figure enters, their silhouette backlit by the torchlight. The men exchange glances, a hint of surprise in their eyes.

“Alright, that is enough for today,” a commanding voice echoes through the room.

The figure steps forward, revealing a man, dressed in military attire. His eyes are stern and hold no compassion.

“Release her,” he orders, her voice brooking no argument.

The interrogators, albeit reluctantly, step back. The guard unlocks your restraints, and you slump forward, breathing heavily.

The man turns to the interrogators, his expression stern. “That’s enough, you may go.”

The two men scowl but don’t argue. They exit the room, leaving you alone with the mysterious man.

He turns to you, his gaze assessing. “You’ve endured more than necessary. My apologies.”

“You’re not sorry. Go straight to hell,” you spit.

The man’s stern expression falters for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure. “I understand your anger, but I’m here to explain to you what’s going on. I’m General Shepherd. I lead the Southern Kingdom’s military.”

You’re silent. You recognize the name from a few brief mentions around the castle whilst receiving intel about the war, but you’ve never seen him before.

“We’re not here to hurt you—”

You glare at him, still seething with anger and distrust. “Do you hear yourself? What the fuck are you talking about, when I’ve been kidnapped and tortured? Why should I hear anything you have to say?”

Shepherd grabs your jaw harshly, fingers squeezing your cheeks. You claw at his wrist gripping your face, but he doesn’t let go.

“If you would listen to what I’m telling you, then you wouldn’t be sitting in this room. Don’t wear my patience thin, your majesty.”

His words are sharp, and you can feel the intensity in his grip on your jaw. Shepherd releases you, allowing you to lean back into the chair. You shoot him a venomous look, but he seems unfazed.

“Your husband, King Ghost, has been a thorn in our side for far too long. Quite the nuisance. The war between our kingdoms has dragged on, costing our side quite a lot. We need a resolution, and we need it soon,” Shepherd explains, his gaze locking onto yours.

“So, what? You think kidnapping me and torturing me is going to make Ghost surrender?” you scoff, annoyance evident in your voice. “He won’t surrender, if that’s what you want. He’s going to fight back harder, and you’re going to wish you never had me here.”

“Still, it’s a means to an end. A desperate attempt to force his hand,” Shepherd replies, frustration in his voice. “We have leverage now, and we plan to use it to bring about a swift end to Kastron’s military. We’re not heartless, your majesty. We aim to minimize bloodshed.”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Minimize bloodshed? By kidnapping me and using me as a bargaining tool? Very noble and humanitarian of you.”

Shepherd narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t respond to your sarcasm. “Your husband won’t let harm come to you. He'll do whatever it takes to secure your safety.”

“He’s not going to surrender,” you mutter under your breath. He’s going to do much, much worse than anyone could ever imagine.

“He will. This war has dragged on for too long. We need a resolution, and we need it now,” Shepherd emphasizes, his tone stern.

Your mind races, considering the weight of the situation. You hate Shepherd for this, subjecting you to a cruel game that you never wanted to be part of in the first place. It wasn’t even Kastron that started this war, it was the Southern Kingdom. The hypocrisy of the Southern Kingdom and unjust treatment of your own kingdom has driven you up the wall. You think about your people, your kingdom, and the lives at stake.

Your gaze pierces through Shepherd’s cold exterior.

Shepherd sighs, as if he anticipated your skepticism. “You don’t have to trust me. But you should consider the bigger picture. Your cooperation can save lives, including your own.”

A conflicted expression crosses your face. The idea of cooperating with your captors goes against every instinct, but the desire for an end to the war lingers in the back of your mind. You weigh your options, knowing that every decision carries significant consequences.

“What do you expect from me?” you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Shepherd studies you for a moment before responding, “Information. Insight into Kastron's military strategies, resources, weaknesses. Anything that can expedite the end of the war and give Kastron over to us.”

You laugh humorlessly. “See, that’s exactly what I don’t want.”

Shepherd’s gaze remains unwavering. “Your wants are not the priority here. The fate of your kingdom is on your shoulders. If you truly care about your people and your husband, you’ll consider the bigger picture.”

Your jaw clenches, frustration boiling within you. You know Shepherd is partially right, but the resentment toward the Southern Kingdom clouds your judgment. You take a deep breath, attempting to push aside your anger.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t just use me and murder me when it’s convenient?” you challenge, searching for any sign of honesty in Shepherd’s eyes.

He leans in, his expression serious. “My word. Betraying the terms of our agreement would not serve the interests of either of our kingdoms.”

Agreement, you scoff inside your head. As if I had any choice in the first place.

You find his words hard to believe. The events leading up to this point have shattered your trust in anyone associated with the Southern Kingdom. However, you can’t deny the urgency of the situation.

You decide to not say anything. Shepherd nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. “All we ask is that you provide us with information. I’ll give you time to think this over.”

Shepherd motions for you to stand, and you do so with a glare. Your body protests, every movement sending pain coursing through you. He leads you out of the room, the guards following closely behind. The dimly lit corridors of the underground dungeon stretch ahead, and you realize that you’re not being taken to the same cell you were initially in.

Eventually, you arrive at a somewhat more comfortable room. It's still a cell, cold iron bars keeping you prisoner, but there's a cot and a small table.

Shepherd removes the manacles from your wrists, allowing you to rub your raw skin.

“I’m going to leave these off. Don’t get smart.”

The heavy door clanks shut behind you, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. A guard stands watch outside your cell, giving you no privacy.

The reality of your situation settles in, and you can't help but feel powerlessness. The fate of Kastron rests, in part, on your shoulders. You sit on the cot, your mind racing with questions and uncertainties.

As you ponder the road ahead of you, a small opening in the door slides open, and a guard hands you a meager meal. The gesture is cold, impersonal, but you accept it nonetheless. The guard retreats, leaving you alone again.

The hours pass slowly in the dimly lit cell. You wrestle with conflicting emotions—anger, fear, determination. The echoes of Shepherd’s words linger in your mind, and you can’t help but have doubts in your mind. Would Simon come rescue you? Or would you have to escape on your own? You don’t even know where you are being kept. Your thoughts flicker to Kastron, what Johnny must be doing right now. Surely they’re looking for you.

As the torches flicker and the dungeon remains shrouded in darkness, you brace yourself for the challenges that will come with tomorrow. Shepherd needs your cooperation, and you’re not going to give it to him, no matter the cost. The journey ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear—you will not surrender easily, and the fight for Kastron is far from over.

. . .

The next two days, you’re dragged back to the same room for interrogation. Again, you refuse to speak, each blow raining down harder on you. Your nose was bloodied, face battered and red, and ribs surely bruised from the blows. You’ve been in a perpetual state of fight or flight, adrenaline and pain racking your body in devastating amounts. You were plain exhausted, body reaching its limit.

But you didn’t really care. You wanted to keep Kastron and Simon safe, so you stayed silent. Save for your screams of pain.

On the third night, you found yourself alone in the dungeons. It was unusual, as there was usually a guard in place to make sure you didn’t do anything out of line.

You move to the iron bars, trying your best to peek both ways before pulling out a stolen fork from one of your meals. The metal of the fork feels strangely empowering in your hands as you work on the lock. The dim light in the dungeon barely illuminates your surroundings, but you're determined to seize any opportunity for escape. The occasional distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor, reminding you of the ever-present threat of getting caught.

As you manipulate the lock with the makeshift tool, you can’t shake off the nagging feeling that this might be a setup. Perhaps Shepherd or someone else in the Southern Kingdom’s monarchy is testing your resolve, observing whether you’d take advantage of a momentary lapse in surveillance. You can’t bring yourself to care that much.

The lock finally clicks, and the cell door creaks open. You hesitate for a moment, listening intently for any signs of approaching footsteps. The dungeon remains eerily quiet. Slipping the fork into your clothing, you step out cautiously, avoiding the patches of cold, damp floor. Your battered body protests with every movement, but the urgency of your situation fuels your determination.

You move silently, keenly aware that any noise could betray your escape. The cool air sends shivers down your spine as you head towards the direction you’re taken in for interrogation. It’s a risky venture, and most likely a stupid venture, but you don’t want to be holed up in this godforsaken hell hole for much longer.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach a heavy, iron door. It's slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of dim light from the other side. Your heart pounds in your chest as you inch it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading upward. The ascent is slow and agonizing, each step a reminder of the physical toll the past days of torture have taken on your body. You wince with each step, taking deep, steadying breaths. As you approach the top, you hear hushed voices and the occasional clank of armor.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you spot a guard stationed at the top of the stairs, seemingly engrossed in conversation with another. Their attention is diverted, providing you with a small window of opportunity.

Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. The corridor beyond is dimly lit, and you stick to the shadows, hugging the cold stone wall. Pressing yourself against the wall, you listen carefully to the conversations around you, trying to piece together an escape route. Your gaze falls upon an entryway that has the last hints of the sunset pouring through the crevices.

You reach the entryway, and a sense of trepidation washes over you. Before you could push open the door and make a run for it, a hand grabs your upper arm. Without hesitation, you clench your fork in your hand and stab the perpetrator with the prongs.

The guard lets out a pained scream as your makeshift weapon finds its mark. They release their grip on your arm, stumbling back in pain.

“You bitch!” They cry, and a few more guards appear on the scene after hearing their scream.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you realize that your window of escape is rapidly closing. Without waiting any further, you burst through the entryway, darting into the fading light of the setting sun.

You bolt as fast as you can across the cobblestones, the sounds of yelling guards and footsteps hot on your tail. Every step makes it feel as though fire is shooting up your body, but you push through. Just as you think you’re about to make a clean getaway into the forest outside the bunker, you’re side tackled to the ground.

The impact is brutal, and pain shoots through your battered body as you collide with the hard ground. The guards quickly swarm around you, their faces contorted with anger. One of them wrestles the stolen fork from your hand, while the others pin you down, restraining your limbs.

“Bloody rebel,” one of the guards snarls, spittle flying as they speak.

“Get the fuck– off of me!” you scream, trying to swipe and hit at anyone in your reach.

Your attempt at escape only intensifies their aggression. The guard you wounded with the fork clutches their side, a seething expression of pain etched across their face.

The leader of the guards, a stern-faced man with a scar running across his cheek, steps forward. “Thought you could just waltz out of here, did ya?”

He delivers a swift kick to your ribs, making you howl in pain. The guards show no mercy as they haul you to your feet. You go deadweight in their grasp, making it harder for them to drag you back to your cell. When they manage to pull you halfway back to your cell, you start kicking and screaming again, not wanting to make this easy for them.

“Fuck all of you, let go of me!” you scream, trying to yank your wrists from their grasp.

“Shut the fuck up,” a guard yells at you, digging their fingernails into your wrist.

As you're thrown back into your dark, dank cell, the manacles are back on, alongside chains on each ankle. The heavy door clangs shut behind you, and the bitter taste of defeat settles in your mouth. Two guards now stand outside your cell, watching you intently.

A few minutes go by, and General Shepherd strides into the hallway. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixate on your battered form.

“Leave us,” his voice commands, and the guards retreat from the dungeon.

He stands just outside the iron bars, his gaze cold and calculating.

“You’re a persistent one,” he remarks, his tone devoid of empathy.

Despite your battered state, you summon what strength remains within you and glare defiantly at Shepherd.

You glare at him, defiance burning despite the exhaustion. “Fuck off.”

He doesn’t say anything, which enrages you.

“I said, fuck. Off. Leave me alone!” you yell. Shepherd's stoic expression doesn’t waver. Instead, he observes you with an unsettling calmness that sends shivers down your spine. The silence stretches, and you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. “You have spirit, I'll give you that. But it's time to realize the futility of your resistance. It’s been nearly four days. More than half a week. I don’t have the time or patience to keep you around.”

“I’ll never bow to the likes of you,” you retort.

Shepherd sighs, almost as if he’s disappointed. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture here. Your defiance only prolongs the suffering. Kastron can have peace, Ghost won’t have to face such difficult decisions. All we need is your cooperation.”

“I’d rather die,” you spit out, every word laced with venom. “And I don’t think Ghost would appreciate it if I turned up dead. You think he’ll surrender just because you beat me to a pulp? Think again. He’s coming to get me any day now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll show you mercy or pull back the troops. You’ll see. And you’ll be sorry you even looked at Kastron’s borders.”

His gaze doesn’t falter. “Perhaps. But, death is a choice, too. And it’s not just your life at stake, is it? There’s a kingdom relying on your decisions.”

You clench your fists, the chains rattling with your restrained anger. “I won't betray my people for your false promises.”

Shepherd leans against the cold stone wall, crossing his arms. “Think about it. Reflect on where you are right now. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early. I hope you’ll have come to your senses by then.”

Without waiting for your response, he turns and leaves the dungeon, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Alone in the cold darkness, you curl up on the cot as best you can given the heavy chains.

. . .

Shepherd keeps his promise, returning in the morning.

“Well?” he prompts, a hint of impatience in his tone.

You meet his gaze with defiance. “Go. To. Hell.”

His expression remains unreadable. “Very well. You’ve made your choice.”

You’re dragged back to the interrogation room, only this time you’re silent.

You’re met with the tools set right in front of your chair, and a scary looking person you’ve never seen before.

As you’re restrained to a chair, your eyes glaze over.

For once in your life, you’re quiet. No snarky comments, no sharp words. You’re silent.

Because you’re truly afraid.

. . .

The metallic scent of blood fills the air. You don’t think you’ve ever lost as much blood in your life.

The room is spinning, and your body feels detached from your consciousness. The pain, once sharp and immediate, has dulled into a throbbing ache that permeates every fiber of your being. The interrogator’s methods have taken a drastic toll, and you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness.

You think your wrist is sprained, if not broken. You glance down at it, the swollen and bruised flesh causing your stomach to churn. You definitely look worse for wear right now.

Eventually, they tire of their methods, leaving you slumped in the chair, bloodied and broken. The tools they used on you lie abandoned on a nearby table. Every movement, no matter how slight, sends waves of pain through your form.

As the interrogator steps away, their job seemingly done, a faint groan pushes past your split upper lip. The throbbing in your head matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, each pulse amplifying the pain. Your vision swims, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

Shepherd approaches, crouching to meet your gaze.

“I had hoped you would see reason," he says, almost conversationally. “The pain will continue until you cooperate.”

You manage a hoarse chuckle, the sound more bitter than amused. “Sorry I can’t be of use to you.”

He straightens, his gaze unwavering. “I have all the time in the world. You however… I’m not so sure. I suggest you reconsider. Your defiance harms not only you but those you claim to protect.”

With that, Shepherd turns and exits the room, motioning the guards to take you back to your cell.

The guards, their expressions cold and indifferent, unshackle you from the blood-stained chair. Your body protests as you’re hoisted up, pain shooting through every limb. They guide you out of the interrogation room, each step a painful shuffle. Your vision is blurring, and you lose your footing a few times. As they lead you back to your cell, you catch glimpses of other new prisoners, faces worn and defeated. The stench of dampness and decay fills your nostrils, and you throw up on the floor in front of you. You think some of it has traces of blood.

The guards show no reaction to your vomit, their faces remaining stoic and indifferent. You stumble forward, the world spinning around you, and your steps become increasingly unsteady.

The door to your cell creaks open, and you’re unceremoniously thrown inside. The manacles and chains are back on, securing you in the darkness. The guards, their duty done, exit without a word, leaving you alone with your pain.

You lie on the floor for who knows how long, focusing on your breathing and attempting to not fall asleep in the fear that you won’t wake up for a long time due to the severity of your injuries.

In, and out.

A few hours pass, and you manage to calm your swirling vision and headache. With a grunt, you pull yourself up to your cot with your good hand, dropping onto the solid mattress with a grunt.

You’re not sure how much longer you could go on like this. It was all too much.

As you lay there in the dimness of your cell, a distant noise catches your attention. Footsteps, echoing through the dungeon. At first, you dismiss it as another patrol, but the rhythm and urgency in the steps hinted at something different. A figure emerges in front of your bars, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the return of the guards or another round of interrogation.

To your surprise, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Dove?”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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